Page 76 of SEAL's Promise
At the front door, Cal shifted to the side of the frame, drawing Rachelle against his back and out of the line of fire. Jackson took position on the other side of the door. Both men palmed their weapons.
Cal nodded at the medic who rang the doorbell. Chimes pealed through the house. No movement. “Nothing,” he whispered to his teammates.
“Pick the locks,” Eli whispered.
Jackson stood behind Cal, blocking him from view. Seconds after inserting his lock picks, the tumblers shifted. Cal stood and slid his lock picks into his pocket. “Ready,” he whispered.
Eli counted down. “Go.”
Standing to the side of the door, Cal twisted the knob and pushed it open. He heard a low moan. “Blake?”
“Help me.”
He signaled for Jackson to cover right while he took left. Weapons up, they entered the house.
“Cal.” Jackson shoved his weapon into his holster and rushed toward the figure crumpled on the floor in the living room. He crouched beside the fallen man.
Cal turned on a lamp. His jaw hardened as he took in his friend’s appearance. Someone beat Blake, then shot him in the shoulder.
At Rachelle’s soft gasp, he moved to her side in seconds, drawing her against him. “What do you need, Jackson?”
“Mike bag and an ambulance.” The medic looked at Rachelle. “Don’t leave fingerprints anywhere, but I need towels.”
Rachelle blinked, then drew in a deep breath. “Towels. Right.” She stumbled toward the back where his teammates had entered the house.
Cal called 911. “There’s a paramedic on scene,” he informed the dispatcher. Cal ended the call and motioned for Rafe to stay with Jackson while he grabbed the medic’s bag.
After handing Jackson his bag, Cal searched the rest of the house, looking for signs of an intruder. One window was open, dirt smeared on the windowsill. Examination of the glass revealed a perfect circle cut out near the lock.
He returned to the living room and knelt beside his friend. “Blake.”
The man opened his eyes as Jackson worked on him. “Screwed up,” he whispered. “Sorry.”
“I’ll kick your backside later.” If Blake lived. Cal wouldn’t bet on that.
Blake’s lips twitched. “Deserve it. Lost my touch.”
“You’ll blow the dust off your skills at Fortress.” When the injured man reached up, Cal gripped his hand. “Who hurt you?”
A groan when Jackson applied a pressure bandage to the front of his shoulder.
“Suck it up,” the medic said. “The bandages will keep you from losing more blood.”
“Hurts.”
“I know, buddy. You’ll hurt more in a minute when I apply a bandage to the back of your shoulder.”
Cal squeezed Blake’s hand. “Don’t make us look like wusses in front of Rachelle.”
A flicker of a smile.
Sirens drew closer. Cal was running out of time to obtain answers. “Blake, I need your help. Who did this to you, and who’s after my woman?”
“Ski mask. Security system.” He groaned louder when Rafe helped Jackson roll the downed man to his side and apply another pressure bandage. Blake whispered the password to the system as the sirens cut off.
“Who’s targeting Rachelle?” Cal pressed.
“They call him Falcon.”